Jane Dixon

Luck of the Irish

They play that hurling game in Ireland. Everything flies about.

"Did that one hurt, Paddy?" asks O'Reilly.

"Me ears is still ringing, yer dirty scoundrel."

"Hard luck, me boyo."

Well, hard luck is what you get in that kind of game. But there are compensations, all to do with how things look after the game.

They look lovely. Ireland is full of colleens.

Here's one of them. JANE DIXON. Many a Paddy will walk ten miles to call on her and still be full of blarney when he arrives. Men of other nations could only ask hoarsely for water.

Jane, of course, recognises blarney as soon as she hears it. Many a Paddy, calling with a bunch of flowers and an invitation to the horse show, has had his foot caught excruciatingly in the door as Jane closes it.

"Oh, me foot!"

"Does it hurt, Paddy?" calls Jane through the mail-box.

"Like the devil himself, me darling."

"Hard luck, me boyo."

Even in Ireland you can't win them all.

Annabel Lane

Annabel

A member of a dancing troupe is ANNABEL LANE.

She's twenty, she's trim, she's vivacious. She comes from the West Country, and that's a six-barred West Country gate she's perched on.

Her favourite listening is pop music, and she also likes horses, crisp autumnal days and fellers who can make her laugh.

Marie Graham

Housewife in Two Minds

One of our favourite ideas of what a charming housewife should look like is MARIE GRAHAM.

Lately Marie has been in two minds. About her legs. Which are rather eye-catching. Are they to be sheathed in tights or stockings? Gad, that is a problem. Shall stocking-tops once more prevail or not?

And Marie can't get any real help from asking well-known experts like the milkman. All he says is, "Well, come round to the dairy and me and me mates will have a look."

"Honest, you aren't half cheeky," says Marie.

"Ah, well, it makes me bottle tops go round," he says.

Eve Law

A Dolly out of Doors

A genuine modern dolly is EVE LAW of Bournemouth, and a secretary bird into the bargain.

They don't come more swinging than Eve in her mini. She's a dedicated follower of the Pop scene and what she doesn't know about discs you could tell to Aunt Ethel without confusing her.

There's a lot of serious work to get through in her secretarial job but once the day is over its discotheque time and Eve is swinging. Long-legged at five feet seven she's so much a joy to the eye that there isn't a feller in Bournemouth who wants to go off and join the Foreign Legion.

Andrea Kay

What a Doll

Two fellers were waiting for the bus when ANDREA KAY walked by.

"What a doll," said one.

"I can't look round. I've got a stiff neck," said the other.

"You don't know what you're missing," said the first.

So, the second feller made a big effort and turned his head. His stiff neck clicked.

"Caramba, what a cure for seized-up neck muscles," he said hoarsely.

Andrea was tripping along, looking like the shapely epitome of corking dolly birds, and the second feller's eyeballs seized up, and when the bus came along he couldn't see for looking and fell all the way up the stairs.